Surrounded by the Holidays
by Moonunit
Summary: Sequel to 'Surrounded by Wolves'. Story still has very sensitive subject matter. Past rape and attempted suicide. Molly thinks its time to perhaps start dating again. Sherlock thinks it's a horrid idea yet what he doesn't find at all horrid is the plan of her spending the holiday over at his parents...Oh, that should be fun...RIGHT?
1. Chapter 1

Hello, here is a sequel to 'Surrounded by Wolves'…

I wish to think everyone who sent in a review to the Surrounded by Wolves story. I was deeply touched and still unsure of what to say. I know they were heartfelt and the reviews seriously surprised me and touched me greatly. That story was very hard to write because I understood the subject and wondered how my favorite characters would handle the issues within.

I wrote that story because I simply needed to. Anyway…Thank you for reading it… I hope this story is also okay. I tried to stay very respectful and yet true to our beloved characters…I may have failed at times but I am willing to learn…Whether you like this story or not…May your life always be full of hope for a better tomorrow…

**I don't own Sherlock; never did, never will; if I did own the show it would be seriously awful. It's best to leave it to the professionals…**

~*~SH~*~here's a little side note about the quote below: This is something Sherlock Holmes is telling John Watson. In the story this quote has always made me smile because I always picture Holmes yelling crazy things at the poor girl!

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><p>~*~Part 1~*~<p>

'…_I am not often eloquent. I use my head, not my heart. But I really did plead with her with all the warmth of words that I could find in my nature_…'

-The Illustrious Client by Arthur Conan Doyle

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><p>It was a nice little get together at the Watson's home. There had been a perfectly lovely meal with even better company.<p>

Molly had found herself laughing along with Mrs. Hudson as Mary told amusing stories of what John and her daughter been up to and learning this week. The little girl had rested quite happily in Mary's arms as she had talked about her.

As they had been talking and laughing, John and Greg Lestrade talked about the latest mystery that Sherlock had solved. Something about a dog not barking when the murder took place.

Sherlock…Well, Sherlock rested on the sofa as if it was his own. His fingertips were together under his chin with a faraway look upon his face. His eyes stated clearly that he was in the room physically but not at all mentally.

John had stated earlier that everyone was now on 'mute' and Sherlock had escaped into his mind palace for a time.

Molly couldn't help but glance over at him every now and then to think that was an interesting and wonderful talent to have. She wished she could escape her nightmares and bad memories just as easily as Sherlock escaped parties.

Later, the enjoyable party came to a close and as Mary put their little one down in her crib Mrs. Hudson and Greg left. Molly stayed and helped John clean up. Sherlock ignored them all, not realizing that the party was over and so he there he was laid out perfectly still upon the sofa.

Molly washed a glass and looked over at John.

"Honestly, Sherlock has no idea that the party is over or that Mrs. Hudson offered to share a cab home?"

John shook his head. "None at all. We can say anything and even wave a hand in front of his face and get no reaction. There is a strong chance he'll sleep over again…for he does do that now and again…Watch, he'll be surprised that everyone's gone and that it's morning."

Molly smiled as John dried the wine glass before putting it away. Mary came back into the kitchen and tenderly touched John's shoulder.

"She's sleeping beautifully." Mary informed her husband, her face absolutely lovely in its happiness.

Molly quickly looked down at her soapy hands, feeling slightly envious, wishing she could be that happy.

"Mary, John, can I…um, talk about something? You see, I'd like an opinion if that's alright?" Molly found herself saying nervously.

Immediately John and Mary were put on alert. Like two lions in the city zoo who knew exactly when their feeding schedule was.

"Of course!"

"You can talk to us about anything!"

"Well…There's this doctor at Bart's who has asked me out on a dinner date…" Molly finally admitted shyly. Honestly, wondering if she should or even could go out on a date with practically a stranger. Yet, she wanted to be normal again…She didn't want to live in fear for the rest of her life.

"Oh, how delightful!" Mary stated with a happy smile. "Is he cute?"

"Yes. He's Dr. Tobias Danielson…Do either of you know him?"

John, who was quiet for a moment, was now thoughtful before he uttered, "Is he the red-haired bloke who is a surgeon?"

"Yes! Him!" Molly confirmed with a nod.

John studied her carefully. "You haven't been on a date since that bastard did what he did to you correct?"

Molly looked down at the floor before saying softly, "Yes, though actually I hadn't been on a date for months before that happened and its called rape, John. He raped me and oddly enough life goes on."

She knew that for awhile she hadn't wanted life to go on. Not hers anyway.

Molly sighed before glancing back up and snuck a peek into the sitting room to suddenly jerk slightly as Sherlock's focused eyes met hers. He must have moved silently to the counter that separated the rooms. Sherlock was leaning upon it, watching her so intently that it made her extremely nervous.

"Right." John muttered, also looking uncomfortable, he gave a slight start when he noticed his best friend. He was probably thinking about placing a bell on Sherlock so the detective wouldn't be able to sneak up him ever again.

"And you're wondering…" Mary asked giving Molly a friendly side bump, "What to wear?"

Molly gifted Mary a small smile before it faded, "No, if I should accept."

Tobias probably would end up regretting asking her out anyway.

"Of course, you should." Mary told her in a supportive and extremely friendly way. Obviously happy that Molly was thinking of trying to date once more. That the rape hadn't destroyed her like Molly had first thought it had.

"Is there a reason why you shouldn't?" John asked, always going to the heart of the matter.

"No! No! Don't be an idiot, Molly!" Sherlock yelled, looking highly offended. "You are not ready for such crazy nonsense!"

To say everyone looked at Sherlock totally stunned would be an understatement. Though seeing it was Sherlock Holmes saying this and how long they have known him, they really shouldn't at all be surprised at his actions or words.

Sherlock shook his head. "Molly, my dear sweet Molly, look at you! Sure you are pretty enough…some might even say beautiful even with such small breasts and small lips. But really, for months now you have been wearing baggy and quite frankly horrid clothes! Just look at that jumper you are wearing right now! That pale blue and green makes you look so ill, I was seriously tempted to ask John to give you a physical to make sure you were still very much alive!"

"Sherlock, stop talking now." John attempted to cut in.

Of course, Sherlock didn't stop talking.

"And you haven't even bothered, with make-up in what seems like forever! Not that you ever wore all that much anyway. That clearly tells me that you are not interested in a relationship at this time. You are a single woman who has no desire to impress. That alone speaks volumes! Yet, this Tobias Danielson has asked you out_. Why?_ Perhaps he is simply curious about what is underneath all those ghastly clothes. If this truly awful man wants to think you are an easy lay, a woman who will spread her legs if he pays her enough attention, well, after I talk with him…Trust me, he'll be leaving you the hell alone!"

"Sherlock!" Mary and John hissed at him simultaneously.

Highly offended Molly splashed the dish water before turning towards Sherlock. Never knowing that the anger in her eyes made her look alive. Eyes sparkling like beautiful jewels in her fury.

Sherlock smiled at the beauty before him, making her even angrier.

"You are not talking to Tobias, Sherlock!" Molly informed him hotly. "_**Ever**_!"

"I know his name, and where he happens to work, and even the color of his bright red hair. Of course, I'm going to talk to him, perhaps do more than just talk. It's as certain as the earth going around…around…whatever the hell the earth goes around…"

"The sun!" Said the three people in the kitchen with what seemed perfect timing.

"Right! That! Not that I really care. I'd be just as happy if it went around the moon while teddy bears danced in the garden." Sherlock told them excitedly as if playing a game. Before he became serious once more. "Plus, we all know you like dark haired men, that's your 'thing' and he's a red-haired man, not your type at all!"

"My 'thing' is what's on the inside not the outside! And…and even if it was…My type can be expanded!" Molly informed him heatedly.

"No, it can't! You also have a serious fondness for sociopaths; I suspect that's why you dumped…Tom, was it? He was not a sociopath?"

"Sherlock!" John hissed at his best friend.

Molly stepped closer towards Sherlock. "Don't force me to slap you." She informed him with intense emotion.

Something intense danced in his eyes as Sherlock stated emotionlessly. "I've never forced you to do anything but live! Go ahead slap me, you've done it before. I'm certain you'll do it again. Even in my mind palace you've been known to slap me!"

Molly blinked at him before asking, "I'm in your mind palace?"

"Don't be stupid, of course you are. Where else would you be? The only one in my mind palace that keeps showing up after I've deleted him is Anderson…I don't really know why he keeps showing up…"

"Maybe because he is now a fan of yours and he was correct in the fact that you had faked your death, even if it was because of the guilt he was experiencing. It deeply surprised you that he got something right for once in his life." John guessed.

Sherlock gave John a thoughtful look. "You could be correct. I still don't like him all that much."

"You don't have to like him." John informed him.

"True." Sherlock stated with a careless shrug. "Now, back to dating this horny idiot. It's not going to happen, Molly, ever. Accept that and move on. Also, the other day I witnessed a red-haired doctor kick a puppy in the hospital's car park. I don't know if it's the same guy but do you really want to date a suspected puppy kicker?"

Molly honestly didn't know how to respond to that.

Mary however did.

"Sherlock Holmes!" Mary was deeply offended on Molly's behalf. "You stop your fibbing right this minute!"

He glanced at John's wife, "You can't prove that I am fibbing. I can, I'm certain, prove that Molly's hopeful date is a puppy kicker."

"You cannot!" Molly finally added when the shock of Sherlock's words wore off. Now it was his fault that she had a picture in her head of Tobias kicking a helpless cute puppy.

"She's right, you can't prove…" John began to say before he shook his head, "Seriously, you would try to frame that poor bloke, perhaps even fake a photo, all because he wants to date Molly…If I didn't know better—"

"SHUT UP! You do know better!"

This time Sherlock cut in, with a heated glare in his best friend's direction. When he looked back at Molly his face had softened. Molly couldn't help but wonder what that looked she'd witnessed had been about.

"Molly, please understand if you go out this man then I will be forced to follow you both all night. When I could be working on many important cases. Or I'll even be forced to go out on what I'm sure will be a dull date with you both as I use to do with John and his dates. I use to make sure there was no funny business going on."

"You know damn well there had never been any funny business happening with you along and I hated that! You also use to tell me that you'd do that because you were bored with nothing to do…You even said without going with me you were tempted to do something your brother and I would despair you doing!"

"Yes. I never told you what exactly I had planned but I'm sure the prank I would have planned would have been brilliant!"

"I thought you were talking about turning to drugs!"

"Not my fault you completely misunderstood. Plus, you are with Mary now and we both know she's perfect for you…So tell me, Molly, why the sudden need to go out on a date?"

"What?" Molly asked, taking a few steps back, looking nervously away.

Sherlock watched her as a cat would a mouse. "You heard me…_why_?"

"Because I want too!" Molly quickly lied, wincing as she noticed Sherlock's eyes narrow briefly. He had a look upon his face as if he was reading something only he could see.

"You know better than to lie to me, Molly." Sherlock stated softly. There was a dangerous calm that seem to settle upon him.

"Oh, go screw yourself, Sherlock!" She growled at him angrily.

"Why?" His question was still soft.

"Because at this very moment you screwing yourself will make me extremely happy!"

"Hmm…Right, perhaps it would, however that's not going to happen. Simply tell me why, you would want to go out with a bloke that isn't even your type! I'm not going to leave this alone so you might as well accept this…"

Molly stared at him bitterly. "Do you want to know what _you_ have to accept, Sherlock? That there are some things in life that are none of your bloody business! You might be a great and famous detective but when it comes to _my_ business like whether I'm ready to date or not…It's none of your damn business!"

A memory flashed of a sweet and tender moment out on a roof top of Bart's Hospital…Sherlock had tenderly kissed her. He had told her that he had wanted to kiss her for no other reason but to kiss her…Since then he hadn't kissed her not even once. She had wondered why but if he was going to pretend it never happened so was she. He would still carefully at times wrap his hand around her wrist as they talked and she knew he was feeling her pulse…He had told her what he felt under his fingers was something beautiful…Yet, no more kisses. She didn't dare ask him why for she feared what his answer would be…

She simply knew he didn't want to kiss her again…He didn't desire her in that way…

Perhaps that was a good thing. Her body and mind, even her very soul felt violated and damaged, she didn't dare risk her heart.

Maybe in some weird twisted way that was what Sherlock was trying to protect. Maybe that was why he didn't want her to go out with Tobias…

Whatever the reason all she knew for certain was that he was being a dick. Just because he had one didn't mean he should be one!

Molly turned to John and Mary to state calmly and carefully, "I've had a lovely time, really I have. Thank you for inviting me but it's late and I really must be off."

"Completely understandable." John muttered, glaring at Sherlock as always knowing exactly who was at fault...

"I'll see you soon and I do hope you have a good night." Mary told her. "Call me and we can talk more about your date."

Molly nodded with a tight smile before she moved out of the kitchen to find her wool coat and tugging it on. She tried to remember where she had put her purse and gave a quick look for it. To have Sherlock hand her the purse in question.

She noticed Sherlock put on his familiar black coat and scarf and was now pulling on his black gloves.

"Goodnight." She told him as she rushed out the door. Her lips now tight in annoyance as Sherlock simply followed.

"We need to talk, Molly." He informed her.

She shook her head and moved faster. "No, we really don't."

"Yes, we really do. We'll put the other conversation we were having on the back burner for now. Anyway as you know Christmas is coming and I already have a plan in place on how we are going to handle it."

Molly stopped, forcing Sherlock to stop as well. "No, whatever it is that you have planned the answer is a big '_**NO**_'. I plan to stay in and watch 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas' and possibly any other Christmas movie I can find on the telly."

"No, my dear sweet Molly, I don't think so. We are going to my parents for the holidays and for some strange reason my Mum is seriously excited about meeting you."

~*~End of Part 1~*~


	2. Chapter 2

~*~PART 2~*~

'…_I am perfectly satisfied with your company if you will tolerate mine_…'

~The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle

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><p>Molly blinked at Sherlock in total shock. She honestly hadn't expected to hear that.<p>

Sherlock placed his hands into the pockets of his coat; the expression upon his face was quite serious.

"My mum and dad are very excited about you spending Christmas with them. Especially mum for some strange reason. They do seem happy that John, Mary and the little one will be there as well. Billy Wiggins is not allowed at all…as if I had plans that included him. They seem to blame him for last Christmas' debauched."

"Oh, you mean they blame him for helping you drug everyone? Heaven forbid they dare blame their perfect son." Molly muttered sarcastically.

"I didn't drug John! I wish people would remember that when retelling that story. Saying I drugged 'everyone' is just plain silly."

"Sometimes Sherlock, I think you are the one being silly…" Molly stated calmly before she began walking once more down the sidewalk.

"I am not at all silly, Molly!" Sherlock said in a tone that suggested that he was highly offended by that.

Molly gave him a look and walked faster.

"So…" Sherlock said very slowly, yet his feet kept up with hers quite easily. "Holiday with my parents…"

"NO! The answer is no, Sherlock!" Molly growled heatedly.

Sherlock jerked her to a stop.

"It was _not_ a question, my dear sweet Molly. I have read some interesting and deeply disturbing things on-line about how people are more likely to off themselves during the holidays—"

"I'm not going to kill myself Sherlock! I'm doing better!" Molly cut in.

"Perhaps." Sherlock told her softly.

Molly could tell he was serious and deeply concerned. Maybe the night she had attempted to take her own life still haunted him greatly. To be honest, she was surprised that it still bothered him. All she knew it sure in the hell made him continue to paint and nail her balcony door the instant she seemed to finally fix the blasted thing.

"And I am very thankful about that fact." Sherlock continued, "But I must make absolutely sure that you don't—"

"I won't!" Molly cut in again. "Seriously, I won't, Sherlock! I swear to you that I won't take my life, just trust me! Please just trust me!"

"Like you trusted me for example?" Sherlock asked sharply, eyes full of emotion before he continued; his tone carried a hard edge. "If I remember correctly you dealt with your fear and shame all by yourself when you should have come to me. You could have trusted me then, Molly! But no, instead you keep secrets and then decide that the only way to deal with it all is to kill yourself! You really should have come to me, Molly. Yet you didn't! You could have come to me the very moment that damn bastard let you go. Why couldn't you have trusted me? Really why? You didn't have to go through that torment all alone. A whole month and a half…Damn it all, Molly, I would have been there for you! I also would have found that man much sooner than I did! Stopped him from hurting anyone else…Made sure he paid for what he did to you quicker then…Why didn't you allow me to be there for you from the very beginning? _Seriously, why couldn't __**you**__ have trusted __**me**_?"

Even if the last of his words sounded lost, highly confused and deeply heartbroken, Molly felt as if he had savagely back handed her. She felt her heart speed up and she thrust her shaking hands in to her coat pockets. Sherlock could be so brutal with the truth and especially when he showed what was in his heart…Maybe he didn't mean for the truth to be so cruel, yet it was. The cruelty was sharper than any knife.

"You don't understand…" Molly breathed helplessly. Feeling herself shatter inside.

"You are quite right, I don't." Sherlock seemed to be filled with an overwhelming hurt and slight bitterness. "So asking me to trust you not to kill yourself after I saved you right after you attempted to jump off that blasted balcony of yours is asking a bit much, Molly. So no, I'm not going to trust you! With everything, yes of course I'll trust you but not when it comes to your life. A life you took no value in, forcing me into never trusting you with it! Never will I trust you with it. _Never!_ And because of that fact I'll do everything in my power to keep you from hurting yourself or taking your own life…"

Molly felt her eyes water knowing it wasn't because of the bitter winter air. She jerked her elbow out of Sherlock's black gloved hand. She turned and moved away. More quickly than before. She needed to desperately escape. Needed to get away from Sherlock…

His words maybe true yet they hurt deeply…What bothered her was that she had unwittingly given him pain. Molly had never realized just how bad her attempted suicide had affected him. All she had cared about at the time was getting rid of her own pain. She had just wanted to stop the endless nightmare and the bad memories that had been swallowing her whole. It had been hell, complete hell, and to be perfectly honest at times it was still a living hell.

She had known that her attempt to end it all had bothered him…But to witness his obvious pain and fear over it…Still strong after all these months…

Memories of John telling her that Sherlock Holmes doesn't do fear very well and if he experiences it…His handling of it can be quite scary.

Molly here she was experiencing his fear for herself. The deep and very real terror within those beautiful intelligent eyes. The fear that she would one day take her life and he wouldn't be there to stop it. She had given him that very real fear. Her actions had made the famous detective quite afraid. So much so it seemed to haunt him. She wasn't even sure Jim Moriarty could have done that.

No matter how quickly Molly moved Sherlock kept right in step with her as if he was simply on an evening stroll with no care in the world. She wasn't sure where she was going. She wasn't even keeping an eye out for a cab like she had originally planned.

Finally she screamed at Sherlock with all her frustration and guilt. Her hurting him and not really trusting him with what had happened to her…And not going to him much sooner to stop the bastard from hurting someone else…So much guilt…Too much guilt and shame…

"_Go away! LEAVE! ME! ALONE_!"

"_NO!_" Sherlock screamed right back. He jerked her to a stop and forced her to face him. His body so close to hers she would feel his warmth. His voice when he choose to continue was suddenly calm yet it still held a slight edge that made Molly stiffen. "I want you to listen to me very closely, Molly Hooper. I have come up with three plans. I went with the one I honestly thought you'd like better than the other two because I can be thoughtful like that. Now, I could be wrong yet I highly doubt it; though if you want I'll let you be the one to choose!"

He lifted a gloved hand and began the number count, his eyes never once leaving hers.

"One, we spend the holidays handcuffed together. If I remember correctly you didn't like being handcuffed to me all that much the first time around. If your completely Victorian attitude of when we went to the bathroom together was anything to go by…"

Another finger lifted.

"Number two, I give you some interesting chemicals that make you miss the holiday cheer altogether. I will, however, carefully watch over you as you drool on your pillow."

A third finger came up with Sherlock flashing her, a completely wicked smile. "And your last choice…A lovely Christmas holiday in the country with me, my parents and John's happy little family…So, my dear sweet Molly, tell me…What number are you going to go with? Hmm?"

Molly swallowed hard for he looked and sounded completely serious. Crazy, perhaps yes, yet deadly serious.

His face hardened slightly as he seemed to easily read her thoughts. "Yes, Molly I am quite serious! Nor am I crazy…_Now, what number will it be?_"

A wonderful fantasy hit her, where she escaped Sherlock and his very crazy plans. After an instant plane trip, she found herself on a tropic island somewhere with hot sand, cool blue water and there she was contently sipping a yummy fruity cocktail with a little cute paper umbrella…

"Oh, please do try that and see what will happen." Again Sherlock seemed to be doing his weird mind trick as he informed her of this, his voice low with an iciness that she wasn't really use too, she knew he could be frigid with a lot of people yet as of late he hadn't used his coldness on her.

Molly blinked up at him before angrily saying, "Sherlock Holmes, you stop being creepy right this minute!"

Even as she said the words the once lovely fantasy she had been having had her still on that same beautiful sunny beach, except this time she was handcuffed to Sherlock all the while drooling on her beach towel with the great consulting detective sipping happily on what had once been her yummy fruity cocktail.

Sherlock suddenly looked quite happy indeed as he placed her hand in the crook of his arm and together they slowly strolled down the sidewalk…

"Creepy!" Sherlock said in what sounded like mock shock before laughing stating in a normal tone. "Oh, I'm not being creepy Molly. It's not my fault that you forced me to make a study of you. It's a very fascinating study, I assure you. I could look at your clothes and see that you did your laundry about two in the afternoon. I know you stomp your little left toe early this morning. Yet, I have been learning that your eyes say so much more. I have to totally focus on them if I'm to know…How you really are doing. You're eyes never lie. I have never believed that the eyes were the window to one's soul until I made a study of you. Anyway, my dear sweet Molly what number will you choose? Hmm?"

Molly sighed heavily before she forced a big smile and really attempted to sound happy, "Why going to your parents for the Holidays sounds absolutely delightful, Sherlock!"

"Oh, I thought you'd say exactly that!" Sherlock said with a laugh and squeezed her hand; a part of her couldn't help but wonder if she shouldn't have gone with choice number two…

~*~END OF PART 2~*~


	3. Chapter 3

~*~PART 3~*~

'_Something in his tone caught my ear and I turned to look at him. An extraordinary change had come over his face. It was writhing with inward merriment. His two eyes were shining like stars. It seemed to me that he was making desperate efforts to restrain a convulsive attack of laughter.'_

~The Norwood Builder by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

~*~SH~*~

As Molly stepped out of the rented vehicle, she looked at the beautiful and charming house before her.

"Oh, this place is quite lovely!" Molly said happily before turning wide and curious eyes towards Sherlock. "Were you raised here?"

Sherlock met her eyes briefly over the top of the car before looking at his parent's home with a clearly scientific and clinical eye. "Yes. They bought this house when mummy was pregnant with Mycroft. It looks like they got a new roof this summer. They even painted the trim and fixed the slightly cracked window since I've been here last. Watch, they will spend the next few hours telling me all about it." He stated with great certainty and was perhaps dishearten by the thought.

Sherlock quickly moved towards the boot of the retail car and began to hand her their luggage.

"Molly, when we go in, you will take the stairs and place our items in the second room on the right. Not the left one for that's John and Mary's room."

Molly suddenly felt strangely light headed as she blinked up at him, seriously wondering if she had heard correctly.

"Um, Sherlock?" She squeaked out his name.

His eyes seemed to sparkle with merriment. "Yes, my dear sweet Molly?" He asked right back, Molly noticed that there was no squeak in his voice what so ever.

"When you say 'our items' in one bedroom…"

"My old bedroom, in fact. I still have the very first chemistry set, I've ever owned in the back of the closet somewhere. Maybe later we can get it out and play with it!"

Sherlock actually sounded quite excited about that prospect.

"Um…I mean…Am I expected to share your bedroom…_with you_?" Molly asked feeling her heart nervously speed up.

Sherlock thrust a bag her way and all she could do was grab it and try her best not to fall over.

"Of course." Sherlock said in a total carefree way.

"Do you have two twin beds in your room or something?" Molly asked wondering if she was going into shock and if she was whether Sherlock would be nice enough to hand her a blanket.

"No." Sherlock shook his head. "It's a nice full size bed with plenty of room. Don't tell me you plan to hog the bed…Nor my dear sweet Molly will anything naughty happen unless you plan to ravish me in my sleep…" He popped the 'p' in the last letter of sleep in a cheerfully annoying way.

"Right, as hard as it will be to resist you, I'm very certain that you are quite safe in that aspect. This looks like a good size house…was there not enough room for me to have my own room?"

Sherlock quickly threw another bag her way. "Yes, there is lots of room. Yet…I know you still have very bad nightmares. There have been times that I've stopped by your flat while you were in the middle of some really horrible ones…If I'm in the same room with you perhaps I can stop them in time before you embarrass yourself as you wake the whole household with your ghastly awful screams."

He placed a long duffle bag strap over her shoulder. She nearly staggered under the weight of everything.

"Oh, that's actually very nice of you…" Molly said softly and slowly. She watched as Sherlock picked up brightly colorful wrapped presents that must have tipped out of the large brown paper bag on the drive over.

"I do know how to be nice, Molly, no matter what John says in that bloody stupid blog of his."

"Are you still upset about John's last post?" Molly asked, she couldn't help but laugh.

He shot her a heated glare. "Nooo, why should I be upset? My best friend simply had to tell the whole bloody world about how on my most recent case I ended up wet and muddy from head to toe…Oh, yeah, he also wrote about how a very big guard dog got a special thrill out of humping my leg!"

"John's blog said there were _two_ horny guard dogs more interested in humping your legs than in guarding that weird creepy house."

"You really need to stop reading such rubbish!" Sherlock growled, "John always dramatizes everything when he's not trying to romanticize the other stuff. He should focus on the science of deduction the beauty of it all can only come from that alone! Instead he writes complete utter rubbish!"

Molly laughed some more, not realizing that the joyful merriment racket she had made sounded like music to the great detective's ears. "I will never stop reading John's blog! At least, you proved that the place wasn't haunted and that Mrs. Phelps hadn't been killed by an evil, bad mannered ghost."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I was always quite certain she hadn't been killed by a bad mannered ghost."

"So…Have you given any thought of going back to the creepy place for I'm sure those dogs miss you… To think you don't call or write…" Molly said as she tried to wave at Mary and John as they parked alongside them, but with her loaded down with the luggage made it quite hard to do.

Sherlock's words of "Do shut up about the dogs…" were muffled slightly.

As John got out of the vehicle, his first words were not a greeting but a question, "Did you tell Molly, Sherlock?"

The man in question froze before leaning deeper into the boot of the car, "Do stop being ridiculous, John."

"Oh, I already know Sherlock and I will be sharing a bedroom." Molly quickly informed John not wanting there to be an argument.

John's eyes widened. "Really, Sherlock? Are you mental?"

Sherlock jerked the large bag of presents out of the boot and slammed down the lid.

"No, John I am not mental. There is nothing wrong with Molly and me sharing a bedroom. She still has very bad nightmares and I'm helping her out. I'm not going to hurt or do anything that makes her uncomfortable. Plus, if she doesn't trust me to be a gentleman she can sleep on the blasted floor! Mum always vacuums before company comes over anyway."

John turned towards Molly and took one of the heavier bags from her. "I'm not talking about that…Sherlock's sweet mum called me and asked if Sherlock's delightful and she was certain she was going to love her, girlfriend was allergic to anything such as nuts or if she should make any vegan dishes!"

Molly stared at John in shock. She wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"I am certain my Mum did not use that term and if she did she was obviously joking with you."

"Why would she joke with me, Sherlock? You have never and I do mean _**never**_ brought a girl home to your mother! You call her up and tell her there is this girl that you've known for years—"

"Well it's true! I've known Molly for many years!" Sherlock cut in acting a bit annoyed with his best friend.

"You also told your mother that she's _very_ special to you!" John continued.

"And she is, just as Mrs. Hudson is special to me. Molly is _**my**_ Molly, how can she _not be special to me_?" Sherlock stated now quite calm. He did not see any problem with any of this and didn't know what was bothering John.

Yet Molly was seeing a very clear picture about this even if Sherlock didn't have a clue…

"Sherlock…" Molly breathed eyes wide. "Sherlock, did you at least inform your mother that we are not a couple?"

Something flickered briefly across Sherlock's face. "Don't be absurd! My mummy is a very smart woman. She'll know at once what exactly you are to me nor do I have to explain myself to anyone! All my mother needs to know is I want a nice Holmes Christmas! I should not have to explain to her or anyone that the main reason we are doing this is so Molly doesn't off herself and totally ruins Christmas for everyone!"

"SHERLOCK!" John hissed warningly.

Yet Molly was the one to flinch wishing with all her heart that Sherlock would stop bringing that up. Her throat suddenly felt tight yet she still found herself saying, "I'm doing better…"

There was some deep emotion that Molly wasn't sure what it was that revealed itself within Sherlock's eyes as he studied her.

"True," Sherlock stated tightly, "but suicide thoughts don't magically disappear. Just like the myth of Santa Claus does not just go away as much as I want them to simply vanish and never return. I know better and you know better. You are strong, Molly, stronger than you realize…My one true hope, Molly, is _that you are stronger than those thoughts ever could be_."

Molly swallowed hard before saying honestly, "Maybe, one day I will indeed be much stronger than those thoughts. I am trying to be strong, Sherlock, I really am. I'm hopeful at least. I live each day hoping that I will get stronger. Some days it's really hard but as I have stated I'm doing better. You can stop worrying about me…or what I may or may not do."

"I highly doubt that I will ever stop worrying about you." Sherlock's words sounded so very real and true.

Molly sighed and avoided his gaze. Sometimes the hardest and bravest thing someone could do was simply live…

And she so desperately needed to believe that she was indeed getting better.

Perhaps the nightmares would one day fade away into nothingness. Doubtful but she could always dream that it could happen. The pain and the shame of the past would fade as well. She knew better to hope for all of that but still…

She had hope, nonetheless...

"Sherlock! We much focus on your mother!" John cut in on their conversation to glare at Sherlock belligerently.

"Why? Is something wrong with her?" Sherlock asked wearily.

Whatever would have been said next was cut short as they heard Sherlock's Mother's joyful cry and happy greeting.

Everyone seemed to be rushed into the house after many hugs.

At one point Sherlock asked Molly if she was doing okay all under his mother's happy and quite hopeful eyes.

Molly could almost see the beautiful dreams that for a long time the woman had started to believe would never happen.

She didn't want to hurt the woman with the horrid truth…Molly had deep feelings for her son, hell she was certain she loved him, but she feared Sherlock was much too logical to ever be ruled by the heart much less by feelings.

She knew…Simply knew that the woman before her had dreams that one or both of her sons would finally find that special someone to love and perhaps have a family with. It became a foolish fantasy as the years went by.

Molly could tell her. Perhaps even should…

Yet, she could never be that cruel.

She noticed right away that John couldn't either.

Plus, his mum should be happy that Sherlock now had friends. He had people that he cared deeply for and in some small way he had created his own small family. In John, Mary, their beautiful daughter, Mrs. Hudson, Greg and luckily for her—She was a part of Sherlock family of friends. One he had chosen or maybe they had chosen him. Either way Sherlock had unknowingly and surprisingly created something precious and beautiful…

So, at Sherlock's question she rested her hand gently upon his arm.

"I'm nervous and a little overwhelmed," Molly found herself telling him honestly, "but I'm okay, Sherlock."

Molly was surprised with just how 'okay' she really was.

What had been at the time an unreadable expression softened, Sherlock's eyes warmed greatly.

And so with that the holiday had begun…

~*~END OF PART 3~*~


	4. Chapter 4

I do hope you are enjoying...

Mental hug~

~*~Part 4~*~

'…_My dear fellow,' said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, 'life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent…'_

-A Case of Identity by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

><p>Sherlock actually seemed to be on his very best behavior which made John, Mary and herself quite nervous. Molly wasn't sure why exactly it made her nervous, it just did.<p>

He was probably on his best behavior to keep from being on his mum's bad side not that she could image such a sweet and lovely woman with a bad side.

Mrs. Holmes seemed so naturally loving and kind. Molly couldn't help but be charmed by such a wonderfully sweet and talkative woman. She could easily talk one's ear off about anything and everything and then there was Sherlock's father…

He too was a lovely and quite nice man. He seemed so friendly and kind. Molly was completely surprised to find herself laughing with delight over some of the things he would tell her. The way his eyes would sparkle made her smile even more.

Sherlock's parents were so very different to what she had been expecting. She thought they would be extremely logical and quite cold and frigid, perhaps not normal at all. She had even thought before meeting them that they would be very robotic like.

Instead they were very warm, overly friendly and so very loving especially towards their son. One could see they loved each other deeply and had a good solid marriage that was held together with a strong steadfast love that was so beautiful to witness.

They both had intelligent eyes yet they didn't seem to take in everything in at a glance like Sherlock did. They didn't seem to have the art of deduction. Sherlock's parents seemed in all honestly_ normal _as well as_ nice_…

They seemed to prove without a doubt that Sherlock and Mycroft had not been test tube babies or a government experiment that could have so easily gone horribly wrong…

Molly wasn't sure why she was so surprised to see Sherlock's brother, Mycroft show up…maybe it was because he looked about as excited to be there as one would be seeing the dentist about having a root canal.

Sherlock must have been surprised as well for he was heard asking Mycroft, "Why are you here?"

"Well, it could be because it's Christmas, brother mine, and as we are family we simply _**must**_ celebrate that delightful fact." Mycroft stated sarcastically before finishing sulkily, "Or it could be because Mummy told me I simply _**had**_ to be here and there was no choice in the matter. I'll let you decide the_** real**_ reason."

Sherlock's big smile in absolutely pure delight was his only response.

Mycroft glared, "You dare do anything like you did last Christmas and my gift to you will be my fist slamming hard into your face."

Sherlock's eyes sparkled as he placed his fingers under his chin. "Really? Right in front of dear sweet mummy? Oh my, haven't you gotten brave in your old age…" He crooned mockingly.

"Wait, didn't you tell me what the other word for bravery meant…" John stated close by leaning forward to continue softly, "Stupidity, correct?"

Sherlock laughed out loud.

Mycroft tightened his jaw and glared at them both.

Violet Holmes swept into the room with a huge smile. She quickly hugged her oldest son, having hugged her youngest son much earlier.

"Oh, it's always so good to see my little boys together and having a grand time!"

Mycroft rolled his eyes making sure his mummy wasn't watching before telling her. "Mummy, your boys haven't been_ little_ for a long time…"

"Especially, Mycroft." Sherlock stated with mischievous eyes dancing, before mouthing to his brother, 'fatty'.

Not in view of his mummy, of course. When she shot a look his way he smiled innocently but when she turned away the smile turned into a completely wicked smirk.

Mycroft couldn't help but gift his brother a very heated glare…He looked as if he was seriously biting his tongue so he wouldn't get into trouble by saying something nasty to his little brother in front of his mother.

Molly could only shake her head at the two brothers. Sometimes they seemed so grown up and elegant in their ways, truly capable of handling anything…_Then_ there were times they were simply two nasty kids trying desperately not to kill each other and upset their dear sweet mummy!

Sometimes Molly felt that the Holmes brothers were deeply flawed people…Only sometimes of course.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes…" Molly found herself saying softly with sudden shy politeness and a very gentle smile.

She vaguely noticed Sherlock stiffening slightly, his fingers folding under his chin to come to a rest. His sharp eyes focused completely on her.

Mycroft stared at her as well, his expression totally blank.

"Oh, Molly…" Mummy Holmes rushed over to her with a wide carefree smile to give her a quick side hug. "Do call him Mikey…"

"No." Mycroft stated with a heavy frosty chill with in that one single word. "_My name is Mycroft_. Must we always fight about this?"

"I'm not fighting at all, _Mikey_, are you?" Violet said in return with a sudden equal chill in her voice. Suddenly eyeing her eldest son with a certain dangerous glint in there beautiful depths.

Molly's eyes widened wondering where this woman of pure steel unexpectedly came from. The woman she had taken such great delight in knowing was so loving and warm…

Now, however, she could see the hard cold steel that the woman seemed to hide so well that when it came forward it was indeed shocking.

Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breaths collectively…Waiting…

Even Sherlock seemed like a non-breathing statue. Fingers still under his chin. As if praying to something that he did not believe in, hoping like hell that he wouldn't be noticed. He wanted no part in his mummy's wrath…

Molly watched in complete wonder as Mycroft swallowed hard and looked away, "Of course not, Mummy…I'm just teasing." He muttered.

In an instant the deadly storm passed as Violet gave her son a beautiful and loving smile as she lightly patted his cheek.

"You are such a good boy but you are an awful comedian, dear. Now you play nice with your brother and his delightful friends_, especially_ his lovely Molly…I must go into the kitchen and check on supper."

Once she stepped out of the room everyone seemed to be able to breathe once more.

Except that now Molly seemed to be pinned into place with an extremely hard merciless stare.

"You can call me, Mycroft, if you must…Miss Hooper but anything else such as Mikey and extremely bad things will happen to you." He informed her quite coldly.

All Molly could do was blink at him and shake slightly knowing that extremely bad things had already happened to her…She'd been brutally raped and tortured…and to be honest it was hard to image worse.

Sherlock swiftly stood and lunged forward to block Mycroft's view of her. He got right in his face.

"You are not playing nice at all,_ Mikey_." Sherlock said in a low tone filled with an intense fury before continuing sarcastically, "_Doctor_ Hooper can call you 'fatty' or even 'arse wipe' and _**nothing**_ bad will happen to her…Ever."

There was a dangerous long pause as Mycroft frowned at his brother and moved his jaw as if something was quickly going through his mind that he didn't much care for.

Molly lightly bit her lip thinking that she preferred being handcuffed to Sherlock over at his flat then spending the holidays here with the two Holmes brothers.

Or even better, she should have gone with choice number two…

"Sentiment, brother mine?" Mycroft asked softly with a slight questioning tilt to his head. He seemed to be honestly taken aback and surprised.

"Go F-" Sherlock began to tell his brother to do something totally vulgar and in all reality physically impossible. As he told Mycroft this his tone was utterly cold and totally bleak. The fact there was no heat in his tone made the words seem incredibly menacing as if he was quite willing to help make the impossible completely possible. Just for his dear brother…

In the air, there seemed to be a strong chance of quick and brutal violence at any moment.

Molly had honestly never heard Sherlock use the famous 'f' word before and she was a bit worried about what could possibly happen next…

"Mycroft…" John quickly cut in, standing up and getting close next to his best friend…It's very true that it wasn't wise to get between two hostile brothers about to have a savage fight but then John Watson absolutely loved the thrill of danger…

"It's Christmas and we are at your parents." He reminded them both carefully and quietly before continuing, "Also, just so you know Mycroft, you shouldn't have threatened Molly. That was small and petty of you. Sherlock _will_ hurt you and so will I…That's if there is anything left after he's done."

"It's okay…I…I don't really feel threatened at all…" Molly attempted to cut in, yet she was totally ignored.

Sherlock quickly glanced at John before looking over his shoulder at her. Molly was surprised to see half of a smile flash across his face. As if telling her that everything was going to be okay…or…which was much more likely, he realized just where to hit his older brother. Hard and brutal…A true lesson to be learned…

"**MUMMY**!" Sherlock shouted loudly before lying as well as tattling, "Mycroft has greatly offended Molly and I'm now going to have to work like hell to get her to stay. For she wants to leave and never come back!"

Mycroft clenched his fists, his calculating eyes no longer cold and indifferent. Instead they glittered with intense and incredibly hot fury.

"Why you…" He hissed.

"Oh, I know I am." Sherlock told his brother just a bit too cheerfully.

"MYCROFT STEWART STANLEY HOLMES, you get in here right this bloody minute!" Violet's cold and seriously furious voice was heard quite clearly and loudly from the kitchen. A pan was even heard to bang…

Sherlock simply beamed with good cheer.

"I hate you…" Mycroft stated through gritted teeth.

If possible Sherlock beamed even more before warning his brother in an almost sing-song fashion. "Don't keep mummy waiting now…"

The first time Molly had ever met Mycroft Holmes, he had moved with such grace and elegance now however he stormed towards the kitchen as if he were a wild beast being chased by a much bigger prey. For really, heaven forbid if he keeps Mummy Holmes waiting…Her wrath was something to be respected and feared…

Sherlock merrily rubbed his hands together in delight.

"Well…" John stated casually, "At least you got your mother to actually call him, Mycroft."

They stared at each other for a long second before they both began to laugh like little school boys.

Though it was a bit muffled, Molly could faintly hear Violet chewing out her oldest son. Never once letting him say a single word and when he tried he was told to 'Shut it'! Then there was something about how Molly was such a nice and delightful girl…How this was the first time Sherlock brought a woman home…A woman that had lovely child bearing hips…

She decided it would be best to tune out after that, all the while she stared at Sherlock and John.

Molly thought about looking for Mary. She knew that Sherlock's father was with her, cooing with great delight over John and Mary's beautiful baby.

When the best friend's laughter came to an end, John looked over at Molly.

"You okay?" He questioned with gentle concern, as if only now realizing that perhaps this situation was no laughing matter.

Maybe she wouldn't look for Mary.

Actually she wanted…no… she needed was to be alone.

"No…I'm not okay!" Molly stated honestly, hugging herself tightly. "I don't need you two to protect me, especially form Mycroft Holmes."

"I beg to differ." Sherlock told her, "My nasty brother should know better than to threaten you."

Molly sighed softly before stating, "Sherlock, his treat was really nothing…_**extremely bad things**_ have already happened to me plus I have no desire to ever call him Mikey anyway."

"The thing is he shouldn't be threatening you at all." Sherlock repeated before continuing, "Not you. Never you. Nor should he be reminding you about that brutal rape!"

"The thing is he didn't know…" Molly began to remind him softly, her eyes slid away from his. Feeling a deep shame that never seemed to truly go away.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that…My brother can be so much better at deductions than I, so he probably already knows that you have been raped." Sherlock stated carelessly.

Molly felt as if she'd been gut punched.

"Sherlock…" John warned his friend.

"Oh…That's just lovely…Really_ lovely_…" Molly breathed bitterly…More shame and overwhelming hurt flooded through her.

She needed to get out of here!

Stopping herself hug Molly moved with great determination to where her coat was located. John and Sherlock simply watched her.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock finally asked her calmly as she tossed on her grey coat and then her colorful knitted scarf.

"I need some air!" Molly informed him with her best withering glare.

Of course, it seemed that her best withering glare had absolutely no effect on the great consulting detective.

Sherlock gave a heavy sigh before saying as if it were a total chore, "I'll come with you, then."

"NO." Molly said firmly, still feeling like a wounded animal. She hated that feeling…Hell; she was so damned tired of_ always_ feeling this way. There were times she seriously wished she could turn off her emotions like Sherlock seemed so skilled at doing. Whereas at the moment she wanted all the overwhelming emotions that seemed to savagely claw at her to just_ go away_! Maybe _she_ should just go away instead…No…She knew better…

Still Molly needed to attempt to go somewhere private so she could simply_ breathe_ once more.

"I need a moment alone." She continued, her voice even felt as raw and painful as the emotions racing through her.

"No, you don't." Sherlock informed her sharply, his expression was quite serious as if he actually knew…actually understood in some weird way that only Sherlock Holmes could know and understand.

Molly found herself frozen at the door, just for a second, still refusing to look at him. She still was finding it so hard to breathe…A painful knot in her chest…Anxiety was making her it's bitch yet she was refusing to bend over and grab her ankles.

Seriously, she_ really_ needed to get out of here. Out of this house, away from Sherlock…John…Away from _everyone_…

"Sherlock, please…" Molly finally begged. "I need to be alone…for a moment…Just give me about fifteen to twenty minutes and I'll come back…Safe and sound. I promise, Sherlock, please…Just…Please…"

There was a very long moment of powerful silence until Sherlock finally broke it.

"Fine." His voice sounding flat almost completely lifeless. "I'll give you fifteen minutes and then I'll come find you."

Damn, that sounded very threating, so much more than Mycroft's threat and in a weird away awfully suspicious. There was a strong chance that he'd watch her from a distance, allowing her to believe in her illusion of being alone…

Molly nodded before quickly opening the door and stepping out and closing the door firmly behind her.

~*~End of Part 4~*~


	5. Chapter 5

~*~PART 5~*~

'_We had risen to go, but there was something in the woman's voice which arrested Holmes's attention. He turned swiftly upon her. _

'_Your life is __**not **__your own,' he said, 'Keep your hands off it.'_

'_What use is it to anyone?'_

-The Veiled Lodger by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

><p>With her ungloved hands shoved into her pockets she slowly walked around the beautiful house. Wishing desperately that she could enjoy the peace that seemed to be around her.<p>

At one point, Molly came to a complete stop and closed her eyes tiredly, taking a couple of deep breaths of sweet, cold air.

She suddenly stiffened as she heard, "I've been ordered to apologize…profusely if necessary. Even on bended knee…"

Molly hadn't even heard Mycroft come to stand next to her. She opened her eyes to glare at him. She only had less than fifteen bloody minutes and here he was wasting them!

Molly pursed her lips before shaking her head to tell him, "Don't! Just don't! You and I both know that you really didn't do anything wrong and for your information I had absolutely no plans on ever calling you Mikey…Now, please just go away and leave me alone!"

Mycroft Holmes was use to _giving_ orders, _never_ taking them unless by the queen or even more important his mother. So, he stayed right beside her much to Molly's despair…

"My brother seems overly protective of you; tell me, should I expect a happy little announcement quite soon?" Mycroft asked coldly before continuing, "I must say, mummy is ever so hopeful."

Molly took a deep breath before slowly releasing it.

"Oh, please do go piss off." Molly told him calmly and eventually. "I have less than fifteen minutes before your brother comes and hunts me down. Sadly, I'm simply not in the mood to make myself all that hard to find or to be perfectly honest, deal with your stupid nonsense."

Mycroft actually looked surprised.

"When your brother finds me…" Molly found herself continuing, "I will have to do my best to ignore him and as I'm sure you've come to know quite well, Sherlock Holmes is nearly bloody impossible to ignore."

Abruptly, Molly turned and walked away. Very happy to leave Mr. Holmes far behind her.

Except that a few seconds later he was walking right beside her, forcing Molly to roll her eyes in aggravation. Seemed there was another damn Holmes' brother who refused to be ignored.

"Seriously…Go away!" Molly grumbled.

"No." Mycroft stated calmly. "I'm much too curious."

Molly swung around to face him. "Why? Don't you know that curiosity killed the cat? Don't be the cat, Mycroft Holmes! Now leave me be!"

"At the moment I simply can't…Now…What exactly does my dear sweet brother have planned Doctor Hooper? Why on earth has he orchestrated this ghastly family holiday of togetherness? The last time he asked mummy for a family holiday it did not go so well…Speaking of which don't eat or drink anything, especially around him. Now_, tell me_, what madness is Sherlock up to and why are you involved?"

Molly threw up her hands, suddenly very angry and her voice when she finally spoke held so much raw truth it honestly hurt.

"What your dear sweet brother has planned will not come close to affecting you in anyway…But I'll tell you exactly what his great master mind of a plan is and how right you are that it involves me! You see, Sherlock thinks a nice holiday with his parents will actually keep me from offing myself! He no longer trusts me with my own life because I already tried to get rid of it once already! He stopped me; of course…of course, that's Sherlock for you, isn't it?"

Molly really didn't pay him no mind when Mycroft seemed to suddenly take out his phone to quickly text something…He must have had it on vibrate or something…He didn't look at his screen for long, he seemed completely focused upon her however…even as she ranted, still sharing whether he wanted her to share or not, all she knew was that it felt as if her wounds were still quite raw and blooding…

" He doesn't pay you any attention…Sometimes days or even months go by and when you don't want him to notice you or see what you are about to do…He suddenly takes notice! He now seems to make it his goal to keep me alive. I think he's still quite angry at me. For trying to kill myself…Even though it's my bloody life! My life…I'm still alive because Sherlock…He…I'm doing better. I am! And I'm telling him constantly that I'm better. That I won't end my own life…I won't…Yet, your brother, he's not willing to take a chance and after reading on-line about how the holidays can be a trigger for people who are…are…"

Molly stopped to take a deep shaky breath…She honestly didn't know why she telling him all this. Perhaps because she knew he'd never tell…or really care…

"I'm really doing better…I'm no longer going to take my own life…Really, I'm not." She continued, unsure whether she could keep the tears at bay. She didn't want to cry…She felt she'd cried enough…but still it was a possibility.

Emotion seemed to choke her and her eyes were blurry from unshed tears.

"Anyway, as far as I know your brother has no other grand scheme in mind. Sherlock just wants to make sure I live that's all. He sometimes obsesses over silly things…such silly things…"

Molly finally stopped speaking, turning away once more, she could actually feel Mycroft's gaze boring into her.

"You are wrong, you know…" Mycroft informed her carefully and softly, forcing her to stop dead in her tracks. "When you said your life was your own. No one can own it, not even yourself, so you really should keep your hands off of it. No matter how silly or painful you feel life can be."

Molly swallowed hard before glancing at him, "I am…doing better and I'm trying so very hard to keep my hands off, Mr. Holmes…Really I am."

"Do…try harder, Doctor Hooper, much; much harder…Obviously, my brother would not take your death well at all."

Molly was highly eager to change direction of this conversation.

"So…um, do you think it will snow?"

That seemed like a safe enough question.

"It doesn't matter what I think, does it? The weather will do whatever it wants to do, whether I like it or not…like so many things in life." Came his reply.

Molly blinked at him a few times.

"Okay…_Mycroft_ do go away._** NOW!**_" Molly ordered, she even raised her hand and attempted to shoo him away.

Mycroft stared at her for a long time making her wonder what it was about the words she had spoken and her hand jester that he couldn't seem to understand. If Molly didn't know better she'd say he appeared a bit shell-shocked. Molly honestly wasn't sure why. Yet, he actually seemed taken aback, truly surprised by something he had just now realized.

"Are you the reason Sherlock bought that hammer with my card?" Mycroft suddenly asked.

Now it was her turn to feel shell-shocked…

"I…um…" Molly attempted to answer, "Well, I must confess that I did not see our conversation going this way…"

Mycroft smirked slightly before explaining, "Some months back my brother used a card of mine to buy himself a simple quite regular hammer. As Sherlock likes to do he _**borrowed**_ the card so to speak, he honestly thought I didn't know he'd pocketed it…I've been waiting patiently to see what kind of mischief he'd get himself into with it. So image my surprise when all he uses it for is a hammer. He hasn't used the card since."

Molly shook her head in complete wonder.

"Seriously, you think I asked Sherlock to get me a hammer, or something? If I wanted one, Mr. Holmes I'd have gotten one without Sherlock's help. I honestly have no idea why out of everything he could have used your card on he bought a hammer. Maybe he needed to smash some eyeballs I had given him? Who knows? Perhaps you really should ask your brother…"

Mycroft tilted his head thoughtfully before sighing and saying without any expression what so ever. "I _know_ exactly _why_ he bought that blasted hammer. I would really like to understand the _reason_ behind it. You see, if you are going to use a hammer to nearly beat a man to death, you make damn certain it's not linked to you in anyway after you throw it in the Thames…"

He stopped before continuing in a total mocking tone, "Not many are going to dare ask me why I bought a hammer with my card. I wasn't even in the area when the man was savagely beaten, had a meeting with important world leaders…So, what if I'm a man in a minor government position who recently bought a bloody hammer that happens to be now resting in the river…"

Minor government position? Molly snorted at his obvious lie; Sherlock had once informed her how Mycroft _**was**_ the British Government. How he was incredibly dangerous man…Who in their right mind would dare question the powerful Mycroft 'the ice man' Holmes about why he bought a hammer? Or who would make a detailed study of his finances…

Mycroft gave her a quick sarcastic smile as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and he didn't care that she caught him at such an obvious lie.

She froze as it took a minute to fully grasp what exactly he was saying. She knew of one man in recent months that Sherlock had beaten quite savagely….One man, who Sherlock turned over to the police claiming that he had found the serial rapist that way…The very man who had raped her, the man who still haunted her dreams and her waking moments. The man who made her long to die, to escape permanently the nightmare that never seemed to completely fade away.

"I…I didn't know he used a hammer on him. I…I thought he had just used his fists." Molly told him softly.

Mycroft Holmes' sarcastic mood seemed to fade away.

"He did." Sounding as if he really didn't care. "Sherlock used the hammer to make a clear and brutal statement to that rapist…From what I understand from the reports, the hammer in question was used to smash the man's fingers and…well…Surly I don't have to tell you that my brother is very dramatic. As I am a man let me just say…I would not have wanted to be that vulgar man. Even the doctor who looked him over…was visibly shaken."

"You have nothing to worry about…"Molly found herself saying carefully. Only when Mycroft shot her a certain look did she dare continue, "You just said that you wouldn't want to be that man. I highly doubt you've _ever_ wanted to be someone else. Plus, I've heard many things about you…Cold, calculating and manipulative, yes but you are no rapist…and trust me when I say that the man, Sherlock hurt…he deserved it…Really he did."

"No doubt." Mycroft stated his eyes as well as his face giving absolutely nothing away…

Molly would have easily bet fifty quid that Mycroft Holmes could effortlessly make a total killing at Poker.

"And you're completely right, I'm many things but I'm no rapist." Mycroft continued in a low tone.

Molly nodded as she helplessly stared at him before saying honestly… "I would not be standing here talking to you if I thought for a second that you were."

'Meeting one rapist was enough thank you', Molly couldn't help but think with a deathly cold shiver.

"You know…" Sherlock's voice right behind her made her jump slightly. "Here I am giving you fifteen minutes of alone time and you waste it by talking to my ass hat of a brother. How very dull of you."

Molly turned slightly to face him. Her breath caught at the sight of such handsome beauty before her. Really, no man should look that good…

"Well…um…" Molly really wasn't sure how to respond.

"I wanted to talk to her." Mycroft informed his brother as if discussing the weather.

"How very dull of you then, Mycroft. So, had a lovely talk with Mummy, did you?" Sherlock seemed to ask suddenly mischievous and eagerly.

Mycroft glared at his brother. "I was ordered to apologize."

"And…Did you?" Sherlock asked with a certain chill in his tone. Nothing mischievous about him now.

"I told him that he didn't have to…" Molly tried to intervene softly.

The two brothers stared at each other. Long, hard and oh so coldly, it was almost as if they were having a staring contest, the first one to blink would lose and it seemed that both men refused to be losers.

"Oh, my dear sweet Molly…" Sherlock began as if pitying her for her nativity, never once looking her way. "Mycroft, here, simply has to apologize for mummy demanded it from him so…he must…She even told him word for word what to say…Go on, now. Make our mummy happy…"

Mycroft continued to glare daggers at his baby brother before taking a deep breath and turning his gaze upon her.

"Apologies, Molly Hooper…You are a valued guest her and I…was being quite rude. So do, please stay and I beg that you forgive me for being a…" Mycroft suddenly stopped and Sherlock rubbed his hands with glee.

"Go on." Sherlock encouraged him, he actually looked as if he was about to burst with happiness.

Mycroft looked as if nothing would make him happy ever again. He also looked as if he was calculating his chances of getting away with cold blooded murder with his mummy around.

"…please for forgive me for being a total arse." Mycroft finally finished his scripted apology through gritted teeth that his mummy quite obviously made him…Mycroft Holmes a grown and very powerful man say…word for word.

Molly blinked at him in total wonder as Sherlock cackled. Mycroft waited a long beat before giving her a disdainful frown, "Well?"

He continued to wait as Molly wondered what he was waiting for…

"He's waiting for you to accept his oh so heartfelt apology…" Sherlock answered her unspoken question. "I'm hoping you'll tell him to bugger off, so mummy can stay mad at him…and my Christmas for once will be joyous!"

Mycroft inhaled a breath deeply while pinching the bridge of his nose.

For some strange reason that little movement made Sherlock happier still.

"It's okay…" Molly finally answered, "I never needed an apology and if I did then…then of course, I'd forgive you. However…Thank you for the apology, even if it was rehearsed…I know it must still hurt your pride even if you don't…you know, mean it."

Mycroft glanced at her for an odd moment before looking down at his expensive leather shoes as if making certain that it still had a fine lovely shine to them.

"Who says I don't actually mean it?" Mycroft's voice was so soft Molly had to strain her ears to hear the words…

His eyes shot back to hers before he stated clearly, "I do apologize if my unnecessary words brought forth any unpleasantries, Doctor Hooper."

"You can call me, Molly." She cut in.

"Right…Molly." He actually gave her a very faint smile before continuing, "Please note that if you ever need to rant about my favorite little brother or need to talk about…well, anything…call me. Perhaps, I'll even feel generous enough to listen."

For some reason he gave her a slight nod before turning to walk, without a care in the world, so very gracefully…He reminded her briefly of a gentle, calm moving river of water…

"I don't have your number." Molly found herself reminding the British government. Doubting that she'd ever call but it was real nice of him to offer.

He didn't bother to stop his forward movements toward the house as he stated as if it was clearly obvious, "It's already in your phone, Molly."

Molly glanced over at Sherlock to see him standing there with a stunned look upon his face. He blinked a few times as if his brain was trying to rewire itself. He finally noticed her wide-eyed stare.

"And to think you actually called _**me**_ _creepy_ that however, my dear sweet Molly was_** true **_creepiness on so many insane levels…"

Molly shook her head slowly before informing him, "I only called you creepy when you seemed to be reading my mind and actually I didn't find your brother all that creepy…Well, except for placing his number into my phone with me totally unaware of him doing such a thing and while it still rested in my pocket…"

"He also meant his apology…" Sherlock whispered back as if that was what was truly creepy about the whole thing. He could care less how Mycroft had given out his, most of the time highly classified, number.

Molly sighed before asking, already knowing the answer but still hopeful.

"So what are the chances of you going away so I can enjoy my fifteen minutes of alone time?"

Sherlock 'tsked-tsked' her. "None, as I said it's not my fault if you totally wasted your_ alone_ time."

"But I wasn't _alone __**nor**_ did I want or ask for Mycroft's company!"

Sherlock seemed completely unaffected, though he shrugged elaborately at her…Actually making her hand ache with the desire to slap him.

Sherlock Holmes could be so infuriating at times!

He gave her a quick smile before carefully and gently taking her elbow with his hand.

"We really should be going inside…" Sherlock annoyed, "The air has gotten so much colder that your nose and cheeks are turning red and your lips…your lips are becoming chapped. Plus, I cheerfully volunteered your helpful services to Mummy…to do whatever it is that you women do in the kitchen. Do you know how to mash potatoes? Oh, wait, never mind, you are a woman so of course you do…"

Okay, Sherlock Holmes was more than infuriating at times, more like_** all**_ the damn time and she really wanted to punch him now instead of slap him…

Yet, here she was allowing him to lead her back to the house.

Molly was happy to help out but she still wondered if it would be much too odd to call Mycroft to rant about his brother all the while helping out in Mummy Holmes kitchen. Yes, even if he was in the very next room…

Seriously _**why**_ did she choose number three?

Before they reached the door that lead inside Sherlock's cold bare hand wrapped itself tenderly around her wrist as always feeling her pulse as had become his habit…As if he had to make sure that the pulse, that special music that Sherlock swore he heard and felt, was still there…

He seemed to bring her to a sudden stop. He leaned in close to whisper in her ear, "I'm so very thankful that you are getting better, Molly Hooper…Yet, I'm afraid that that you'll want to give up once more…and when that happens I won't notice and it will be much too late for me to do anything about it. Your life does matter maybe not to you but it does to a lot of others, _especially to me_."

He pulled back slightly to study her…Sherlock gently stroked her now lightly wet cheeks.

"Sherlock, for a long time I did honestly think my life didn't matter but I've realized how very wrong I was…So very wrong. You don't have to be afraid anymore."

Sherlock took a deep breath; they stood so very close to each other…He leaned in closer and closed his eyes. "I want to believe you…" He seemed to breathe the words into her ear, his voice sounding oddly thick.

He slowly leaned away and opened his eyes to meet hers before he continued, "I really do want to believe you…Maybe one day, I'll believe you…For there's always hope…yes?"

John's voice from the past rang softly in her head and in her heart…She wondered if Sherlock was remembering the words as well…She could remember the moment so very well…

Molly had been curled upon on Sherlock's sofa. John and the great consulting detective had been in the kitchen…talking…mostly about her…John had been warning his friend that what happened to Molly… she wasn't going to get over simply overnight. It would have to take time, a whole lot of time and more importantly hope.

"_Time doesn't heal. Hope does, time is what brings it." _John's voice from the past softly came back and reminded her…They were the words that rang so true into her heart…

"Yes…" Molly softly agreed. "There is always hope."

Sherlock cupped her cheeks and lightly kissed her forehead before stepping back and for a second something very tender and so profoundly beautiful flashed across his face.

Sometimes it was so easy to remember why she cared so deeply for the man standing before her.

That is until he opened his mouth…

"So, let's get in there and you can do whatever it is that women do in the kitchen, hmm? For supposedly supper won't fix itself…"

With that he opened the door and lightly, yet quickly shoved her inside making her squeal as she tripped.

Oh, yeah, she really should have made a run for it, to some beautiful sunny beach somewhere…

If there was a next time that Sherlock invited her to a family holiday…Damn it all if she wasn't going to find a way to drug him and then…

Oh, then…

Sun, sand and her very own yummy fruity cocktail!

So what if he found her…She had a fantastic fantasy about how she'd give the famous detective a run for his money. Perhaps if Molly asked Mycroft for a little help in creating a nice little challenge for his brother…

Well, none of her flight of fancy really mattered. To be honest she didn't mind helping Violet in the kitchen…She did like being helpful after all. So off she went to do 'woman' work…

And if as Molly smashed the potatoes and she pictured Sherlock's face as she did so…

Well…

She damn sure wasn't going to feel guilty about it!

~*~END OF PART 5~*~


	6. Chapter 6

Oh, my goodness, thank you so, Cornishrexmomma, seriously your reviews and encouragement always make me smile…Your words do mean the world to me…

Okay, and now on to the rest of the story…

* * *

><p>~*~PART 6~*~<p>

'_Dying is a very dull, dreary affair and my advice to you is to have nothing to do with it._

-W. Somerset Maugham

'_I have never loved, Watson, but if I did…'_

-The Devil's Foot by Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

><p>Supper had been really delicious. Though Molly noticed that people seemed leery about eating or drinking anything at first. She could completely understand why, especially when Violet explained about some misadventures that had happened involving food and drink during Sherlock's younger and teenage years.<p>

It seemed it wasn't the first time Sherlock had done little 'experiments' upon his family. Which to be honest made Molly slightly uncomfortable as well…

"No harm was really ever done. It's just that my little boy has always been so curious…" Sherlock's mother had informed her with a tender look when it seemed that she was lost in her memories…

Sherlock, Molly noticed, seemed to take great delight in Mycroft's apparent discomfort, no matter how much Sherlock's brother gave him, his cold 'why do I really put up with you' glare.

Mycroft seemed very determined not to drink or eat anything served to him, though Molly knew he had something for he'd sneak out to his car claiming the need for privacy to work on some highly classified matter.

At one point Sherlock told him that the stuff out in his car couldn't really be all that good for him…And that there were crumbles on his tie that made him look seriously fat.

So really, Mycroft wasn't fooling anyone yet he didn't really seem to care about it all that much.

Later, there was a nice little party. Sherlock played his violin and there had been some drinks and some light hearted cheer. Molly was not one to get drunk though she did like a nice drink now and then yet she wanted to seriously bludgeon Sherlock with a heavy red wine bottle when he reminded her softly that alcohol was a depressant and not to have too much of it.

Then Molly noticed that both brothers seemed to get highly annoyed with all the holiday cheer around them and at some point they both walked out to come back smelling faintly of cigarette smoke some time later.

Molly had explained to John how she had nearly expected them to go out there and kill each other. With an odd look on his face he admitted that when he first got to know them as brothers…It seemed odd at times. Mycroft had told him before he become Sherlock's flat mate and best friend that Mycroft had been the closest thing Sherlock had to a friend…Mycroft said that Sherlock treated him like an archenemy…And then he'd walk into the flat at Baker Street and find them calmly sitting there…Most of the time trying to out glare each other or playing some board game…

Yet, one day John realized that no matter what happened, to the very heart of the matter they were still brothers. Two brothers that actually cared about each other, even if they had some issues, past resentments…

And for two men who claimed a steadfast hatred for sentiment…

They did indeed love each other. Perhaps not like each other at times but there was a deep profound love that neither knew how to shake off.

John thought that maybe just maybe that was why they seemed to take it out on one another. Neither man could handle emotion all that well and they hated themselves a little for it.

Yet, the Holmes boys were family and really, who could ever really understand family?

Because Christmas would officially happen in the morning they would get to open presents then…

Molly had, of course, brought some gifts for everyone…Even an extra for just in case, and with Mycroft showing up she was glad she had done that. Her gifts had been nice and simple. During the summer she had made some canned jelly and she thought that was easier to give to her dear friends…She had even made some Christmas biscuits in colorful bags that rested near the jelly in colorful shiny gift bags…

Though for Sherlock, she had added funny, quite odd, small plastic figurine that she just had to buy for him. The sight of them had honestly made her laugh out loud in the store much to her great embarrassment.

At the time, her actually laughing in even such a carefree manner had seemed to be a thing from the past. So very rare…With everything she had been going through, she had actually seemed to have forgotten how to do what had once been such a simple and often accruing response…

She knew it was very silly and a bit stupid but she could so easily picture Sherlock taking a blow torch to any one of or all of the four small figurines. They were something the box called 'B Movie the true horror addition'. Each little figurine had men and women that were semi dressed and screaming silently and running with their hands in the air…The girls had crazy high heels on that seriously looked like they could easily be turned into weapons. All of them looked frankly ridiculous.

Did Sherlock really need them? Of course not! They were stupid, but maybe they would make him smile just as it had made her laugh…

However, it wasn't Christmas morning yet…So the presents would continue to wait under the tree with everything sparkling and looking so heartwarmingly cheerful. Molly had been told, by Mummy Holmes as if she was an impatient little child, that presents wouldn't be opened until they had all eaten a big Christmas breakfast.

One could easily see the love and care that Mummy and Daddy Holmes had done with the decorations but even without them one could easily see the great love and care they had put into making their home a warm and welcoming place to be. A place one could easily be comfortable and safe.

At the moment, however, Molly eyed herself in the large bathroom mirror. The woman looking back looked comfortable in her pink and blue flannel long old fashion looking nightgown that had some small white buttons that ran down from her neck to half way near her stomach. With it she wore a very fluffy and quite soft pink robe that had tiny black kitties playing all over it.

The woman in the mirror did indeed wear comfortable nightwear. Yet, the woman in front of her seemed so very nervous and worried…A lingering of intense fear that she was trying so desperately to ignore.

"I don't know why you are so afraid and nervous…" Molly softly informed her reflection. She studied herself hoping to understand but her reflection looked as confused as she was. "You are simply _sleeping _in Sherlock's bed; with Sherlock…he's not going to do anything…except perhaps watch me sleep…Oh, God!" Molly groaned the last bit looking away.

There had been a time when she use to fantasies about sleeping with the handsome and annoying Sherlock Holmes…of course they had done more than sleep in those fantasies. It had been pure fiction always would be…But they had been nice and sweet fantasies though…

Now, however there was a part of her that felt dead inside and had no desire to have such passionate fantasies about such intimate things like she use to have. Oh, how they had once seemed so lovely, wonderful and passionate…They had made her blush and warm…they had made her so very warm…Made her feel so alive…A normal woman with deep and passionate desires.

Molly now feared that she'd always feel dead inside when it came to passionate desires…Where she once enjoyed being touched, ached with longing, yearned for that dear sweet hot caress…Of course that had been before the rape…Before that happened to her, she had loved life and truly enjoyed sex.

Now…

Before the thought of sharing a bed with Sherlock Holmes, even just to sleep and possibly snore at each other that would have easily awaked her strong desires and made her tingle with excitement.

Now she tingled with intense fear. Not that he would touch her intimately; she knew better…Her fear was what if he_ did_ have to wake her up from another one of her nightmares? What if in her panic she thought _he_ was her rapist? What if she violently hit him as she would sometimes wake from a dream gasping from horror and swinging her clinched fist, hitting nothing but air?

She knew Sherlock had come to her flat before to check on her…She had hated the times he caught her having one, she always feared he'd catch her have a massive violent one. Those were the worst. They were so violent that she'd wake to her own sobs and begging…finding that she couldn't stop or control her shaking or the feeling of about to become violently ill…

God, what if she had a seriously bad one tonight?

What if the entire household came running to her screams and saw for themselves the seriously damaged wreck that she had become?

Could Sherlock really be able to stop that from happening?

A very soft knock came from outside the bathroom door. Molly suddenly realized that she was shaking uncontrollably. She gasped some deep breaths hoping to calm herself down, desperate to put her fears behind her.

Finally she took one last deep breath and with trembling fingers unlocked the bathroom door and quickly picked up her small night bag.

Molly gifted an obviously concerned John with a forced smile. It was weak but she couldn't seem to find the energy to try for a better one.

"It's all yours!" Molly offered stepping out.

As the good friend and doctor he was, John asked her if she was okay.

Molly nodded looking away before saying honestly, "I'm really trying to be."

John seemed to accept that answer with a sad understanding look that nearly shattered her already bruised heart.

Before she stepped away to leave, John cleared his throat to say softly, "I made damn sure that our stupid git of a friend didn't go to bed wearing nothing but a bed sheet. Seriously, sometimes the grown man acts like a two year old about to have a temper tantrum! I had to tell him that I'd dress him myself and to trust me, he didn't want me to do that."

Frozen, Molly's eyes widened, "What?"

"I've lived with the man and trust me, every now and then he wears nothing but a bloody sheet wrapped around him! Which I always found embarrassing so to be on the safe side, I made damn sure he was wearing some nice sleepwear. He's even wearing socks…though I'm not sure for how long he'll wear them…I'm talking about the socks…at least, I hope I am."

This time Molly's weak smile wasn't forced though small it was real and true. She softly thanked him and after a moment of studying her, he closed his eyes as if he had a thought that bothered him. Uncertain if he should even say something…

When John opened his eyes, she could instantly see that he had reached a decision. He took a deep breath and slowly released it.

"I get bad nightmares." He informed her in a gentle whisper as if sharing a deep dark secret with her.

Molly stiffened and he carefully continued…

"They are nothing like yours, nothing at all like yours…but they aren't good. Not good at all, really. I see my mates fighting and dying around me…In the nightmares I re-experience the pain and shock of being shot…Of actually believing that I was going to die. I still wake up from a cold sweat, and I'm shaking…Sometimes I'm even crying, Molly. There is no shame in having nightmares, or having a violent response to them. We shouldn't feel shame over any of it…it took me awhile to accept that fact…Actually, to be honest, I_ still_ struggle with that fact. I just thought you should know…and, um, if you ever need anything…anything at all from Mary or me…we are here and if you ever have a bad one, or even when it's not so bad…Please, Molly, don't be too ashamed or afraid to call me. Please."

Molly nodded, feeling her eyes flood.

"Sure…Thanks, John." She found herself saying her voice husky and thick.

John returned her nod, shifting his feet.

"Though at least I won't have to call you tonight." Molly added quietly.

John gave her a small smile. "That's right you'll have Sherlock."

An odd peace that she hadn't felt for so long fell over her that instantly calmed her nerves.

And with that they went their separate ways…

After a short walk down the hallway she came to a stop at the door to Sherlock's childhood bedroom. Molly had been in there for a few minutes, earlier, when she had put their bags in the room and quickly unpacked. Yet, she had studied the room as intensely as she use to study a body on one of her slabs.

The walls had been a gently light creamy blue and the carpet a rich, lovely dark blue. Some small wooden end tables that had seen better days and a chest covered in stickers. Mostly colorful skull and crossbones and one claiming that only pirates where allowed to open the chest. There was even a beautiful antique desk, with a large round magnifying glass that seemed to be used as a paper weight.

On one wall there was a big map of Britain and a poster of different types of bugs…On the opposite wall there was a large colorful map of the world in bright cheerful colors and next to that a large old periodic table that actually had some newer elements colored penciled in…

What charmed her most was in the corner was a plastic, yet lifelike skeleton that dangled with a thick rope around its neck from a large metal hook from the ceiling and then there were books…lots and lots of books.

Some titles tempted her into wanting to ask if there was some way she could borrow them.

Molly tentatively knocked upon the Sherlock's door; she was worried at first that it was much too light for him to hear. So Molly was about to knock again, much louder this time when she suddenly heard Sherlock yelled, "You don't have to knock, Molly! Just come in!"

"I do if you are only wearing a bed sheet!" Molly found herself yelling back.

Silence followed for a moment.

"I'm dressed." His voice was heard clearly and was that a slight pout in his tone? "John made sure of that! You both would have done quite well living in Victorian times…Though that would have been interesting for us, wouldn't it? I'm certain I'd still be a consulting detective for crime is quite common, its logic that's rare, no matter what time one lives in…and just think I'd have been able to smoke anywhere, without nasty looks and telling me how horrid smoking is for my heath…God, that alone would be worth walking through horse shit filled streets..."

She bit her lip trying to hide a smile even if he couldn't see it and slowly cracked open the door to peek inside. As if making sure he wasn't lying and was indeed in the rumored famous bed sheet.

Sherlock lay upon his back on the bed, right on top of his blue striped comforter. Hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling and he was indeed correct he was fully clothed. Sherlock was dressed in his silky blue dressing gown, left open of course. A grey T-shirt and green sweat pants and bright white socks…Within those socks, his toes wiggled and danced…For some reason she was completely charmed by the sight.

Sherlock sighed, lifted his head to look at her before repeating, "Do come in, Molly."

So that is exactly what she did, shutting the door behind her, Molly carefully tossed her small overnight bag off to the side as she rested against the door. Once more wondering why she went with choice number three.

Sherlock sat up to grin sardonically, "What, not ready to go night-night?"

For some reason Molly felt heat rise to her cheeks and she looked shyly away.

"To be honest, I'm really not all that sleepy."

Sherlock seemed to spring from his bed in one fluid motion. "Good! Neither am I." He rubbed his hands together before continuing, "So let's go back to that conversation we were having, shall we?"

Molly simply had to look at him with wide eyes trying to frantically figure out what conversation interested Sherlock enough to want to go back to having it…

Now, Sherlock was simply standing there, watching her quite carefully, waiting for her to figure out with great calmness that she honestly hadn't known he had and she couldn't_ stand_ it!

"What conversation?" Molly finally asked curiously.

He waited a beat before saying slowly, "_**Why**_ do you want to go out with a suspected puppy kicker?"

Molly jerked her head back so it rested against the door, while her hands flew up to her face as she groaned in deep despair…

"God! Sherlock! Why must we even talk about it? God, _**why**_!?"

"Well, I told you that we were going to put the conversation on the backburner…Not my fault if you deleted what I said to you." Sherlock told her with a very careless shrug.

Molly slowly removed her hands from her face. "I didn't delete it, I just don't want to talk about it!"

"Why?" Sherlock asked with a puzzled gaze, "Does talking about a suspected puppy kicker bring you emotional pain?"

"NO!_ And_ stop calling Tobias a suspected puppy kicker!"

"His name isn't worth a second in my mind palace…Yet, I've come to notice that when I call the total moron the suspected puppy kicker you seem to know exactly who I'm speaking of…So, why do you want to go out with him when we both know you have no real desire to do so?"

Molly grimaced, feeling certain that she had just turned deathly pale.

"Sherlock…" She breathed, "Why? Really,_ why_ must we talk about this? Ever?"

"Because _**you**_ matter to me and because I really don't want you to be dating…"

Molly felt her heart give a sudden leap but then she realized…

"Are you telling me you don't want me dating because I have horrid taste in men?"

Sherlock blinked at her as if surprised, "Well, given your history, that's true no doubt, but…Well, even though I'm not certain that you are really ready for any relationship… I thought that when you felt it was time to start dating again you'd be asking me out."

To say that Molly was stunned was indeed an understatement and she had to swallow hard. She quickly moistened her suddenly dry lips and for the first time noticed how his eyes instantly watched the movement like a hawk watching its prey…She even noticed that his hands gave a slight twitch…

"H-How was I to know that you were expecting that a-and w-why_ would I even ask you_?" Molly asked carefully still feeling very confused and desperately needing to understand.

"Because I'm what you like. I've_ always_ been what you like." Sherlock told her softly and quite honestly. "And you should have known I was waiting for you to make the move and ask me—"

"HOW!?" Molly demanded, "How was I to know that?"

"We kissed. That night on the roof of Bart's…" Sherlock informed her, as if she really should have already known that fact and remembered that night. "That kiss held a lot of promise Molly, and more importantly after everything that you have gone through…_you kissed me back_."

"I know I kissed you back! But you only kissed me that once! And-and you never seemed to want to kiss me after that night!" Molly protested.

"It wasn't because I didn't want too. I did and still do in fact. I actually liked kissing you." Sherlock told her, his voice deep and raw with truth. "I thought…I truly thought you understood…" He now sounded as confused as she felt.

"I don't…" Molly whispered, something inside her began to warm, yet…she really wasn't sure could ever understand. "I really don't."

Sherlock sighed, with a slight shake of his head.

"Molly…" He began, "You've been raped."

To think he actually had the audacity to say that as if she hadn't realized that fact for herself!

"I did some research…" He continued…

'Well, of course,' Molly thought, 'Sherlock Holmes would do some research…He likes research…'

"Rape is not about desire. It has nothing to do with desire." Sherlock informed her very softly, "It's about control. He got off on it as well as the pain he brought to you. He used you and hurt you greatly…I'm not a man who dwells upon wishes but I do wish constantly that I had somehow kept that from happening to you. For a long time you have been feeling like that bloody damn bastard had destroyed you, damaged you way beyond repair…and Molly, I swear to you that he didn't, he really didn't."

He stopped speaking and waited as if by now she had to understand. As if everything was finally crystal clear…Except it still wasn't, not to her…

Molly carefully took a couple of steps closer towards him, to come to a complete stand still.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock…I still don't understand." Molly admitted.

Sherlock whirled away from her as he jerked his fingers into his own dark curls.

"CONTROL! God!" Sherlock shouted, before facing her once more. "He forced _his_ control upon you, Molly! He attempted to take your own control and _crush_ it! I want…I want to give you back that control that he so savagely took from you. _Whatever we have __**you **__are going to be the one to be in control of it!"_

"_Whatever __**we**__ have…"_ Molly softly echoed back before saying, hopefully, "Do you mean like…boyfriend and girlfriend…you and me?"

"If that is what you want. Though the term 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' is so very juvenile. "Sherlock even wrinkled his nose with disdain before continuing in a normal tone. "Whatever _**we have, we'll have it together**_…but, Molly I'm not that good with people or relationships. I never have been and I am married to my work…and even with the fact I'm not good with people. For some reason I still ended up with John, you and Mary, Ms. Hudson…and…well, anyway, with you I would like to try this whole relationship thing…Molly, you above everyone knows my methods. They are not always kind. I'm a very logical man…and…and I can also be a very manipulative bastard. John has warned me that after what you have gone through if I do what is in my nature to do that I could lose you forever. So, when it comes to you, I have been trying. Really trying **not** to manipulate you but…I still find moments when…For example, I don't want you to date others so I warn you that he might be a puppy kicker…and I must warn you that the next man you think of accepting a date from will turn out to be a suspected kitten drowner."

"Sherlock!"

He held out his arms to her and perhaps even to the universe in general as if to say, 'what do you expect from me, really?'

Sherlock carefully moved towards her until he could reach out and tenderly wrap his hand around her wrist.

"At least, I'm warning you… and you know with your taste in men there is a possibility that they just might end up being puppy kickers and cute kitten drowners." He informed her softly.

"Yet, my taste can't be all that bad…as you know…_you are what I like_…" Molly seemed to tell him a bit breathlessly.

"Yes." Sherlock answered back, with his free hand, he tenderly almost lovingly caressed her cheek. "Except I don't kick puppies or drown kittens."

"So…If I want a relationship?" She asked nervously, biting her lip.

Sherlock smiled sweetly, "We can have one…One I will try my damnest to let you be in control of it. This will be all at your own pace. If you want to kiss, we'll kiss…You want to go out to a dull romantic movie, we'll negotiate…Maybe you can go with John and I will go with Mary and do some target practice…but Molly don't try to force things to happen just because you—"

"Want to be normal?" Molly asked her eyes sliding away from his.

"I'm not sure you're ever really been normal, hell, you are in love with me, Sherlock Holmes, hello by the way, so in all honesty you'll never _be_ normal, Molly Hooper."

"…I wanted to go out with Tobias just to see if I could …be normal once more…You know, actually enjoy myself out on a date like I use to do. I just wanted to be who I use to be…before…before the rape…that's all. J-Just for a moment, I wanted to forget and be who I use to be…that's all, Sherlock. I just wanted to be the normal girl I use to be…I just wanted to be…the old me. Before the rape…before I became…this, woman who is afraid and feels as if I'll never be who I use to be again." She admitted as silent tears ran down her cheeks.

"Oh, Molly…" Sherlock breathed, his forehead now rested on hers. "You are _still_ you. Your rapist didn't steal that from you. We all change, none of us can avoid that from happening, just as our bodies change as we grow older, yet we are still who we really are on the inside. He hurt you, yes, yet as I told you before he didn't destroy who you are on the inside…Never that…"

"But…" Molly attempted to argue.

"No, buts…" Sherlock told her firmly, pulling slightly away to look down at her. Both of his hands came up to cup her face and carefully, quite tenderly, wiped her tears with his thumbs. "Molly, my dear sweet Molly, let's say you did go out with this suspected puppy kicker and he casually, not really thinking, reaches out to take your hand or put his hand on the small of your back…"

Molly flinched, she honestly hadn't thought about that…

Sherlock continued…

"I'm touching you and you haven't flinched away from _me_, yet at the thought of this man casually or even purposely touching you…you flinch…Molly, you're normal enough. You are _still_, Molly Hooper, who will always be just normal, enough…"

Molly gave Sherlock a weak chuckle.

"For you anyway…"

"And now you understand." Sherlock told her firmly.

"Yes…I now understand." Molly whispered, her tone still shaking because of her tears and the intense emotion she was experiencing.

Molly's hands reached up and palmed his face just like he was doing with hers.

"Sherlock?" She found herself asking.

"Molly?" He asked softly in return.

"So…If I want to…well, you know…try…um…I-I mean…Just to see…"

"Just ask, Molly, simply ask."

Molly did as he ordered.

"Kiss me?" She asked, suddenly shy yet incredibly hopeful.

He leaned in and at first placed a soft kiss on Molly's lips. He removed his hands from her face to slide them down to her waist and pull her even closer and tighter against him. The woman in her knew he was aroused but he seemed to be controlling it beautifully… Sherlock's kiss seemed to carefully, as if attempting to not to spook her, became deeper.

A tender and sweet kiss…full of so much warmth…passion…and Molly wasn't sure but she thought she could feel the love within it as well…Though she wasn't certain of it.

All Molly knew for certain was the feeling of his lips on hers were at the moment the most important thing in the world to her. A gathering warmth, long forgotten, incredibly slow seemed to flow through her veins…it was so very carefully being reawaken….

Sherlock pulled back slightly, "So still good for you as well?"

Molly's response to the question was to slide her palms up to Sherlock's head. Sighing happily, Molly kissed Sherlock, burying her hands deep into his curly dark silky hair. Holding his head tightly in place so she could take his mouth with her own…

Sherlock actually groaned as he held her in his arms. Slowly, lovingly deepening the wonderful passionate kiss.

When they both allowed the kiss to end, Molly waited for her heart to stop racing…She actually felt alive. Felt almost whole…Felt a little bit normal, she wasn't there yet but almost…For a moment she could nearly believe she wasn't really damaged beyond all repair.

Molly stayed safely in his arms, never waiting to pull away and he seemed quite willing and happy to continue to hold her.

Sherlock's beautiful intelligent eyes held hers before saying, "Molly, I have something I need to ask before we go any further…It's something I've never asked _anyone_ especially a girl and seeing that neither of us are sleepy…"

Molly, in total trust, studied him in return. With other men, she'd have felt overly nervous and highly apprehensive about whatever he planned to ask her…

But with Sherlock Holmes, Molly knew she'd always be safe with him, no matter what he ever asked her…

After a beat, Sherlock continued with a glint of excitement as well as with a small charming smile, "Would you like to play with my chemistry set?"

Molly began to laugh.

It was a good, honest laugh full of carefree happiness and true steadfast joy.

"Yes…" She gasped through her laughter, "I really would like that a lot…"

And for the first time, Molly was so very happy that she went with choice number three…

~*~THE END?~*~

~*~SH~*~SH~*~

Well…

I do hope you enjoyed this story…

If you would like to leave a review that would be lovely and I do thank you a head of time from the bottom of my very weird heart…

Even if the review is to tell me to stop writing for its making your eyes bleed…Though if you do…First, never! Second if your eyes are bleeding its highly doubtful my story did that to you and you really should seek medical attention immediately…

As I'm sure you noticed there is a question mark at the end of this story mostly because I love sequels…Especially sequels to sequels…so…guess what?

That's right…

So, if you are interested please keep watch for a one part story called, "Surrounded by a Certain Longing"…

It might be out in days or months, we'll see…for at the moment I need to get back to writing my 'A Shark, A Goldfish and the Village Idiot' fic…

Anyway, thank you so much for taking the time to read this story and I do hope that you have a lovely day…Mental Hug ~Moonunit


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